Pagan Theatre
by Vespertine Noir
Summary: A wave of worries sweeps Mystic Falls.Not only does fall instigate social pitfalls, it generates the most brutal drought on record, along with the emergence of a visitor.Sula Irons, a woman with an agenda...The Salvatore Bros & Elena must delve deeper...
1. Moon Child

Summary: A fresh wave of worries sweeps Mystic Falls. Not only does fall instigate social pitfalls, it generates the most brutal drought on record, along with the emergence of a visitor. Sula Irons is a woman with an agenda for she plans to settle into this small town world. It is up to the Salvatore brothers and Elena to sway whether or not she succeeds in carrying out her design.

* * *

**I.**

**Moon Child**

_Do you believe in the Lord, Jesus Christ?_

The evangelist declared over the late night airwaves. The verve with which he spoke one could only envision the vessels bulging beneath the skin of his neck and surely the spittle flying forth from his mouth and the sheen of sweat coating his brow. The passionate minister would possibly then with a bejeweled-fingered hand wipe that brow in a triumphant gesture. This all played out as Elena's hybrid vehicle cut through the silence of the darkened small town world, with the cool, fresh air coming in through rolled down windows. She hadn't the idea what had provoked the self-reflecting need to debate the condition of her mortal soul, maybe it simply was that these empty assurances held the most conviction her ears had come across all day.

Perhaps, it seemed that her mind held little thought than the grueling ping pong between considering her mortality, the reality of _everything_, or even the menial happenings of life. A mind loosening yawn disrupted her musings. And what quickly followed was the regret of not considering even asking Stefan of possibly coming to get her from the group study.

Her gaze found the full, iridescent moon hanging above like a perturbing globe.

She'd been avoiding him, but she'd have to remember that if she wanted to continue doing so. And the guilt, there had been this immense guilt she'd been taking around with her for the past few weeks that caused her to force him away. It was not fair to him or even herself what she was possibly putting them both through. He'd wanted nothing much but to possibly place his lips against hers or touch her skin, oh and she recalled those privileges all too well. There was also the other brooding figure clouding Elena's judgment, one she'd been fervent and vocal about and against. But now she wasn't too sure, now that she was apart from Stefan and apart from the whole mess even if momentarily. Not to forget Katherine either, damn. There would always be something or the other, for there was just no getting past anything.

So yes, she was definitely missing Stefan. They were able to be together during the daylight hours but it wasn't enough. There would be a liquid spirit flowing through her flesh, her veins, and mind whenever they were able to have their precious moments. Those were now becoming so scarce and-and here she was brilliantly putting them to waste. She could call him now. Well, at least right on about nearing home, he'd have enough time to meet her just as she was pulling in.

_Be careful of what you invite into your life…your hearts… _

Elena lowered the volume of the prime time minister, for a moment tiring of listening and ruminating just how damned she was. Unthinking, she dexterously fumbled through her bag on the passenger seat all the while making sure her eyes were firmly on the road. It was not necessary to again crash a perfectly good car, in all of a single year.

There'd been one missed call so far.

"Stefan," she said under her breath. Her heart did silent somersaults, up until this very moment she hadn't realized just how much she had missed him.

Her phone went off unexpectedly, which startled her for a second. Damon. He'd texted her at least several times now. Which duly inspired her, "Damn it."

She hit the DISMISS key. When would he understand the meaning of "You Are Being Ignored?" hence her not replying to any of his feeble attempts at any gestures or uttering any words with a semblance to an apology. At this point his inaction of not expressing any humanity was just as if he were to get the thinking of becoming some kind of modern day unorthodox, supernatural Mother Theresa. She was indifferent and his doings were all the same to her, she did not care. The phone silently fell to her lap and all she could focus on was navigating through this lush, wooded area. It at times made her pensive and overly mortal feeling when in dark, uninhabited locales.

A deep shudder erupted in the pit of her stomach and coursed its way through her extremities, and it wasn't even cold out.

"Just a little while longer," she coached herself. "It's nothing but the hibby jibbies… nothing but the darn woods with _nothing_ creepy, crawling and wanting to slit my throat with a smile. Great."

Quite suddenly, later on she'd try to piece the chaos of it together, her phone lit up in celebration:

_Oh well, I love you, pretty baby_

_You're the only love I've ever known_

_Just as long as you stay with me_

_The whole world is my throne_

_Beyond here lies nothin'_

_Nothin' we can call our own…_

"Damn it Damon," she said as she glanced at the Caller ID. She was definitely going to end his immortal ass. The ringtone, possibly set at the theft of her phone by that damned- guy and his passion for Bob Dylan. The phone in the crescendo of belligerent song and vibration slipped from her lap to her feet. "Crap."

"Stop calling!" The phone shifted closer and closer beneath the pedals. The device died momentarily then blared back to life with the tune, her fingertips barely grazing the illusive phone. This caused the car to veer slightly over to the left hand side and that was all it took for her to lose her veneer. She cursed him, up to the very grave he should've inhabited right at the instant. The car dipped forward, her legs exerting way too much pressure than necessary, the night air coming in through the windows in billows now. The air was now wet and heavy, when had that happened, with the minister returning with his gilded words. And she could've sworn there was something in those thick woods fixing to get at her.

"Oh no," she breathed. There was something on the road with her. Instinctively, she clutched the wheel silently praying, she actually caught herself praying. Her foot touched down hard, jostling her insides, the tires screeching with the lung power of a banshee. She was definitely familiar with the priceless seconds it took to define transcending the streak between life and death.

~o~

For a few minutes she remained within the car, not certain she was intact. It had been all too real again this time, she thought as the bile made its way up her throat that was dry, desperate. Her breath hitched, feeling as though her mind was scattering into a million pieces. The adrenaline abated and finally her fingers could leave the steering wheel. She could breathe now. The car had not flipped, thankfully. But surely she supposed it had done a half circle on the meager breadth of road.

There had been a woman in the road, she remembered.

Elena fought against her seat belt, half kicking through her door before she could set herself right upon the desolate asphalt. There was only silence and her haggard breathing. And with not much light upon the road it was very difficult to see, what little there was came from the slightly overcast full moon and her high beams.

There was no one in the immediate vicinity.

"Hello," she called out.

Her voice was hoarse from the cold front pulling in, and the light sweater covering her upper body didn't do a lot to keep any warmth from the impending chill. "Hello," she called again through a cupped mouth. "Is there anyon-"

Before her, maybe a few yards in distance, away from the haven of the car lights she found what she was looking for. "Oh my gosh," Elena's hand flew to her mouth.

The figure stepped forward and into the scope of the illumination. The woman, a young woman stood before her as though she'd just meandered her way into her bedroom, nightgown and all readied for nothing but sleep. Except there was a thick coating of mud lining the hem of her knee-length slip. Her legs slightly dirtied, with dark stains and scratches. And her hands, they were filthy and covered in the same dark stain.

That had been Elena's line of vision and assessment, until she got to the other girl's face which had an almost feral quality to it. Her brown complexion was a severe contrast to the scarlet splatter on her mouth, chin and the now dried flow congealed upon the neckline of her dress. Elena stood there, not knowing what to do.

Fear rushed her towards a quick decision, fight or flight?

She couldn't be a vampire, could she? Certainly not, and she hoped she was correct, but possibly she wasn't one because _if_ she had been, wouldn't she be newly deceased by now? Instead she still here, being able to assess the situation so easily. A cat did have her tongue, but she struggled to regain it. "Oh my God. Are-" her eyes scoured the nearby vegetation, and thankfully as far as she could make out there wasn't any sort of imminent danger. "A-are you okay?"

The woman struggled forward, falling to her knees three times. Elena impulsively rushed forward, stringing her arms through the other woman's. The girl's skin was near frozen. "Are you okay? Oh gosh, oh gosh." She peered down into the girl's face and there was not the presence of any humanity within her. She was completely… vacant.

Elena helped her to her feet, not even knowing from where to go at this point. Other than the blood, there seemed to be little damage done which had to be a good sign. Perhaps internal bleeding, she was fearful. "I'm going to take you to the hospital, do you hear me?" She touched the girl's face trying to inspire some kind of response.

Click, just like that, a switch had suddenly gone on. The woman snapped back into life. "No. Hos-pital," her voice was guttural, raw.

Elena dismissed it as pure delirium. But she was extremely fervent, "No. Hospital. P-please." She shook her head wildly and a sort of fear wrote itself across her bloodied face.

_What am I going to do_, Elena desperately tried to quiet the fear rising in her belly. They ambled to the car, Elena helping her in the back. Seated in the front seat her hands frantically shook and dove into her hair. She'd call Stefan. He'd know how to fix this. And she was beginning to think that maybe this was something she hoped she wasn't making a poor decision in. Furthermore, she wanted for this to be normal, something _normal_.

She located her phone, the source of all this mess but she'd come back to that at a more appropriate time. There were five rings, and she prayed that the seventh would not come through. Stefan's voicemail. _Damn it_.

"Stefan, please pick up. Something happened and I r-really need you," her voice cracked and the overdue tears found themselves flowing. "I-I just picked up someone off the pass going into Cuttler. I-I don't know what to do. I'm heading over to your house right now. So please be there."

There wasn't any sound of life coming from the back seat but a glance over and she saw the girl broken down and her slender limbs gathered into the fetal position, her wide-moon eyes threatening to lose themselves in a vacuum of nothingness. And the silence was now in here accompanying them, drowning out the still ranting minister and the steady resonance of the insect wildlife.

_Where were you through the trial and the tribulation? Oh you knew exactly where you were heh-heh. And where was He? Suffering, right there along with you my friend. Saying not to agonize, not to worry but you cannot hear Him. But oh yes, He is _here_._

_Do you believe in Him, wayward traveler?..._


	2. Firelight

**II.**

**Firelight**

She rushed into the spot next to Stefan's car. The short ride over to his home definitely hadn't coaxed her into any sort of calm. It was as though the more she neared her destination the more real the situation in her backseat became. Silently she chided herself for it'd had been minutes since she'd last checked to even see if her fare in the back had even turned to breathe. In truth, Elena was terrified of discovering what might be the reality. She should've brought her to the hospital.

The thought was halfway through her mind when the driver's door was flung open from its hinges. Stefan. She could breathe now for he always gave any situation clarity. His hooded eyes searched her as though looking for any apparent ailment, he then cupped her face and brought his lips to hers fiercely.

"It's not me, I'm okay. She's in the back," Elena managed to say. Then she began describing the sequential happenings up to the minute almost incoherently as he quickly disappeared to the rear door. She hadn't even heard a single footfall from him.

"Be careful," she was by now hovering over him as he reached into the back.

The seat protested audibly as his weight shuffled deeper into the interior. Quietly Elena assumed he assessed the damage, and then gently began to extract the now limp frame of the wild looking young woman.

"She's unconscious," he said softly as he settled her comfortably in his arms. "We'll have to wait until she's awake to know the extent of any injuries," he paused to feebly reassure Elena, "_if_ there are any."

Stefan's trim physique ushered them into his home. There was a sort of urgency building up within him; something that he couldn't place which only unnerved him more than he'd like to admit. He loathed the situation, but for Elena's sake he needed to maintain a cool composure. She was visibly shaken and it seemed the slightest incident would send her crumbling. Against his better judgment he'd made light of the situation than he should have, the girl could possibly die; her pulse was so weak he could barely detect it.

"I felt like I had to bring her here. She was so terrified." Elena looked up into his murky eyes as he laid her out upon the couch. "The look, I can't describe it but I was so afraid for her, Stefan."

She turned away and began pacing. Now and again she glanced over to couch, where an apparent slumber took a hold of the girl. "She's so young, to have that kind of desperation. That primal disconnection," her hands flew up in exasperation. "I can still see it. I should've brought her to a hospital."

Stefan closed the distance between them, bringing her into his arms. "Look, don't start that up. You did the right thing by bringing her here." He smoothed her hair back and kissed her head gently. Even he wasn't duped by the sound of his "sincerity." The girl needed a hospital. He doubted there was anything substantial he could do in hindsight of turning her. Obviously that alternative was not on the table. "I'll take care of it," he looked meaningfully into her dark eyes.

His fingers deftly felt along pulse points, trying unsuccessfully to locate any indication of a spark. Despite this and an extremely low body temp, her chest rose and fell defiantly. Some force unknown to him was keeping the breath fluttering within the body before him. With her blood pressure this low she surely would seize or perhaps an indication of why she was now unconscious. Hope, string, and paste were keeping this woman together. And no matter how many times he checked her vitals there was not a change, and he was beginning to doubt there would be.

"Whoa, did I miss something here?" A nearly amused voice inquired. Damon sauntered in, surely fresh from the pits of some drinking hole of debauchery. His actions undeterred and unfazed he extracted his upper body from his jacket, throwing the soft leather over a nearby armchair.

Damon's firm lips upturned in a half-hearted smirk, "Who'd she eat?"

Elena rolled her eyes and looked into Stefan's direction. Her glower translated to: _Can you take care of him?_ Stefan instantaneously pulled Damon aside, bringing him away from the sitting room and the front hallway. Relief flooded her body that at least she was past one hurdle.

Earlier she'd brought out a bowl filled with diluted water and antiseptic, she now stared at the ceramic basin with a renewed vigor. The blood smothering the girl's mouth gave way after a few wipes and following a once over of her entire face she looked serene, sleeping. "Who are you?" She asked to no one in particular.

Elena brought shaking fingers to slightly hover beneath the girl's nose, no breath. But at least if it merited, her chest elevated and sunk every few prolonged seconds as though in sleep.

"Please, don't die on me," it resonated through the stuffy room as an order. Elena knew if she did not make it through the night she'd take it extremely hard. If she'd only brought her to adequate medical attention there might've been an once of a possibility of some positive outcome. Although she'd been its company of frequent these past months, death wasn't a matter she could bare. There was a significant blow to her nerve, she'll admit that.

What was keeping Stefan this long? Elena rose to her feet and walked out into the hall in search of her boyfriend.

~o~

It'd been ages since she'd last sat before a blazing hearth. It brought her back to the better days where her mother made cocoa tea from scratch, with the smell of earthiness within the small mounds dispersed as they dissolved into the boiling pot. But she could wager that upon opening her eyes from this reverie that envisioned hearth would be under different circumstances.

She proved to be correct in that, as well as knowing she wasn't quite where she'd been hours before. Her vision was blurred, causing the fear to manifest into a monster and completely handicap her. She was in some foreign place, unarmed, blinded, and frightened. She hadn't felt like that in a while although she was familiar with perpetual apprehension, but what could she do in a situation as this?

Gradually, she had regained some kind of consciousness, but it still felt as though there were heavy pillows filling up her head. Her fingers felt along her body, assuring herself that she was unharmed and she was, gladly. _It could be worse_, she reasoned as her fingers uncertainly reached her eyes, and preparing against the pain that would surely come as she tore at the paste fastening her lids.

_One, two, three_… She got all the way to forty odd something before her vision cleared substantially. She was alone, good. The home was of dark wood, ornate and embodied a sort of old-world dignity, she noted as shapes and colors came into focus. But certainly she wasn't here to admire decor. Vertigo shook her to the core as she sat upright, stifling the urge to spill her guts all over the fine area rug. An exit strategy was necessary, but she knew not from where to go.

As expected, the pads of her feet were sore upon contact with the floor, and she was in far worse shape than she'd anticipated. This was not good.

The windows were bolted. To her right was a sure escape, even at this distance she could make out the subtle change in airflow, that being an indication of a door leading _out_, and to her left perhaps deeper into the residence. It was quite obvious the more sensible choice, but she chose to wait and to weigh the situation more in depth. Quite possibly, who had found _or_ abducted her, she wasn't all certain, would most likely still be here. And said captor could be plural by that of two or three or more.

She investigated her surroundings further, not finding anything of utter use to her. _Damn_. The closest thing to a weapon she could locate small, discreet was a letter opener upon strewn about mail atop a console opposite the fireplace. There were empty envelopes with little indication of who might reside here except for an unopened missive addressed to _The Salvatore Residence_. She was all the way across town, what? Carefully, she fixed the letter opener at her hip using the bands of her underwear.

The home was cold, impersonal with not even a picture on the mantle to give her any clarity as to anyone's identity. Luck. She spotted a cloth satchel upon an armchair by the fireplace, which crackled tauntingly declaring the comforts of home it proffered. Within the bag there were notebooks, a single folder, and a textbook. Her dark stained-bloodied fingers sloppily sifted through the unattended items.

"Elena Gilbert," she whispered.

She thumbed through a few pages, noticing the delicate hand used to scrawl the name, which didn't ring any recollections. Great, maybe this had belonged to a victim of the Lord of the Manor, she almost doubled over in amusement at the incredulity of the thinking. Well, she did not see herself being victim number two in the foreseeable future.

"Uhh-hmmm," someone cleared their throat in a deep, sultry timbre.

A gasp escaped her, the papers and books slipped from her lap and unto the floor with a heavy flop. They both remained wordless and at their own appointed distance, each brow intent on not being the first to break their poise.

Silently, she eased to her feet.

He was by the fireplace, she'd failed to even hear him enter the room although the thick rug underfoot should've surely muffled his footfalls, but not entirely. The girl didn't want to speculate for how long he'd been an unwelcomed spectator, and this could prove yet to be a shortcoming in being aware of her surroundings which could prove yet to be in her disfavor.

He held himself in such an indulgent way it sickened her, bringing the glass tumbler to his lips and halving the dark liquid that swished about, trapped within its prison. His ice blue eyes lingered upon her, a sort of fashion of predicting a move she might exact she supposed.

Gracefully, his long, lean frame eased into the fireplace, breaking eye contact for a few seconds.

"What do you want with me?" She hissed.

His face crinkled into a sweet, boyish look of poison. There was a notion that passed through the air that he was fast growing discontented with the play of events. "I warned Stefan of Elena and her bringing in her pets," he stated disinterestedly and stepped away.

Instinctively, she knew not to trust this man.

She stared at him foolishly as he walked into the core of the room, her body turning appropriately to match his every movement, him taking a seat where she had vacated moments before. His eyes devoured what he might've seen through the almost sheer gown covering her body. Quite inconspicuously under his appraisal, she positioned herself against the ornamental armchair, it sticking into her hips and abdomen, hiding her right hip as she slipped her hand beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown, retrieving the letter opener. The thin but weighty sliver of a blade contoured awkwardly to the length of her forearm.

"Oh Elena, look who's up," he called to his left.

This might be a bluff, but corroborating his indication of another person was the steady clap of two separate footfalls upon the dark floor boards. She failed to look into the direction of the clamor, continuing to focus her gaze upon the man before her. One could easily be bewitched by his generous attractiveness, dark hair, piercing eyes but there was a hardness to him that spoke at length to the budding wildness within her. Momentarily, she looked away as the muted voices now strengthened as they drew closer. Another man, with a woman flanking him emerged from the hallway.

The half-smile tugging at Elena's mouth -the girl presumed that this was the _she_- died on her face as she took in the circumstances. Damon, seated coolly upon the couch and the girl with her heart in her mouth standing across from him. It didn't take her too long to suppose what might've carried on, given Damon was well Damon.

"What did you do to her?" Elena demanded, her cheeks lightly reddening with fury as she looked from the girl to the man who attempted to look nothing less of foreboding.

"What," his hands flew up and the drink sloshed gently over the brim and unto his dark shirt. "I'm not even in here five min- yes, Elena I ravished her whilst you were away." He took another sip of the drink, looking down into the crystal tumbler confused upon seeing no more drink.

"Look, Damon. Just- save it." She'd planned on saying more at length but it was inapt considering the situation at hand and the better of her calmed her monumentally. "Never mind him okay," she cooed. "Are you okay?"

The girl looked from Elena, back to- Damon, and over to the silent figure hovering offside. She demanded, "What am I doing here?"

Elena made as to motion forward, but thought better of it as the girl retreated minutely. She held out her hand, palm-side out as though to assuage the building tension. "Hey, please don't be scared. Look. I found you out near Cuttler Road, remember that?"

Stefan, vying to quickly bandage the situation spoke up. "We helped you. We don't want to hurt you."

"Yeah," Damon interjected. Without the notice of the other three he had somehow procured the decanter and was filling the tumbler with more dark liquid. "Tell that to her and the letter opener in her panties."

The girl looked stricken at being caught red-handed, how had he- never mind that. The playing field had been leveled but naturally when it came to knowing her capabilities she was not in the least daunted.

Damon continued. "Yup, Elena. She'll probably slit your throat the first chance she gets. Look at her," he jested, "I don't even think she understands English, she speaks it well enough. But you know tomato – tomahto." A half-hearted chortle escaped from him. If he were a mortal man, he'd surely be a drunken bastard by now.

"Damon," Elena called out. "Don't you think you've said enough?"

Enough of this foolishness, why should she cower defeated? The letter opener clattered across the smooth floor, calling attention to itself. "I'm going to walk out of here," she stated looking at each figure determinedly.

Stefan looked uneasily from the girl to his brother, thinking he maybe had mistaken that for some sort of challenge. The girl stood before them, no longer clinging unto the stability of the chair- what her wavering legs apparently needed. She walked forward, a stubbornness perplexing her full face. Before he could discourage any advances from Elena, she inched forward to help balance the girl's thin frame.

Impulsively he stepped between Elena and the forthcoming blow. The girl definitely had strength in her, the trance that Elena had described beforehand, he could see it now. Elena was half slammed into his side, knocking the wind from her momentarily. Naturally, he felt the tightly knitted instruction to drive his muscles forward, his lips peeled back with a snarl, destroy the threat.

"Stefan," Elena breathed heavily. "No." Her small hands unconvincingly held him back. "Please."

The atmosphere was hot, stifling. Damon reclined in the spot he was determined not to move from.

The girl, unprompted, doubled over clutching her stomach. This encouraged Elena to move to her aide. "Stefan," she smoothed away the course locks away from the other girl's face. "We need to do something. She's burning up."

"Ahh," the girl futilely needed her abdomen. "I need- uh," her breaths became labored, quick. "Take me to the hosp-"

Suddenly a screech erupted from her lips. Elena could hear the thrill beginning to bubble within her chest until it climbed up to her vocals and poured from her mouth. And so it went on for minutes. There was nothing for her to do but watch in terror as the veins of the girl's neck perturbed and bulged, the tiny blood vessels in her eyes spilling red and trailing from the tear ducts.

She turned to Stefan, "We have to get her to a hospital, now."

He shook his head in agreement. "I'll start the car and pull it around front."

The moment Stefan stepped over the threshold and out of the room the girl could no longer hold herself together, falling to her hands and knees, spilling a steady stream of blood from her mouth upon the floor. Her skin blanched three shades, her lips stretched to full capacity and another torrent of red tide came forth as Elena powerlessly held unto the weeping body now laid out upon the ground. It was as though a lifetime transpired as Elena arduously fought against flailing arms and legs.

Stefan was by her side again, taking the reins. "She's seizing."

"Damon, do something," she called over her shoulder. Elena then looked into Stefan's direction, "I know, w-we shouldn't move her. Not until it passes."

Damon with a look of amazement was fixated on his spot. "Whoa," he retorted.

"Make sure she doesn't choke on her tongue," Stefan instructed. Then another, more subdued flow of blood spilled from her lips, "Or the blood."

And there was so much of it. The gown she wore had been dyed to a light burgundy shade. It was difficult for Stefan to remain here with so much of it, and he could suppose the same for his brother as well. Damon had been right to stay clear. His nose crinkled under well practiced tutelage, at once cutting off his breath and sense of smell momentarily.

~o~

Her slight weight felt so insignificant in his arms. Beyond the scope of natural eyes he rushed out into the still night air. The cold front had passed by now and the foliage swayed in unison to the wind of the uncharacteristically warm fall heat.

"I'll get in the back so you can hand her over to me," Elena instructed. She rushed towards the rear of the vehicle but she was cut off by Damon's sulking figure.

Wordlessly, he slipped into the back of Stefan's car settling himself to receive the load.

"Wow, Damon we sure needed you yesterday." Elena managed to jibe.

Stefan passed off the girl to Damon and slid into the driver's seat. Elena rode in back with the girl and Damon.

"Well it seems that I have the quota of _Nice Shit to Do_ left unfilled for the day." There was little amusement in his voice. His hands shifted about rearranging the girl's thighs and legs to a more comfortable angle across his lap.

The girl was beginning to come to. "You're going to be okay," Elena peered down into her face, whose upper body was cradled in her arms, "we're on the way to the hospital right now." Elena stated. "How long Stefan?"

His eyes navigated to the rearview mirror. "About fifteen minutes. And that's going over 75."

Elena's eyes closed in exasperation. _Shit_. She didn't need to hear that. "Hey," she tapped her face lightly. "What's your name, I-I can't keep on calling you _Her_." It was more so for conversational purposes, the girl's body temperature was already beginning to fall so rapidly it were as though she were holding a corpse in her arms. If she slipped away into sleep, she might not wake. Silently she pleaded with Stefan, that he may go as fast enough to quickly eat up the distance.

After some time the body in her arms began to flutter, her bloodshot eyes momentarily opening, "Sula." A final shudder rattled her body and she went limp, not even the hope for the obstinate rise and fall of her chest declared against the odds.

* * *

A/N: So I hope you like so far. I'm sort of dabbling in new fics before I hit up back the old. Backburner phase I know. I've actually been really getting into Vampire Diaries of late, it was pretty much eh for me as the first season had begun but it's progressively been great! Please let me know what you all think so far.


	3. I Guess There's No Way To Make Love

**III.**

**I Guess There's No Way To Make Love Not Break Our Hearts**

Elena paced the waiting area like a determined demon. The clock on the wall showing that it was quarter past two in the early morning, it had been at least three hours since they'd heard anything at all. She went over to the patient information and briefly inquired.

Her arms wrapped about her abdomen, attempting for the life of them to keep her from jumping from her own skin. "Do you have an idea of how long?"

The older woman in toffee and cream colored scrubs looked at her considerately. "I'm not sure sweetie. But I'll see what I can do." The woman then parted with a kind-hearted smile as she exited the station with a stack of patient charts.

Elena detected Stefan's solemn figure strolling over to her. "Gosh, what's taking so long?" She demanded in frustration.

Stefan had returned with a coffee in hand and a plunge in his effectiveness of pacifying her. "I imagine they're doing what they can." His pensive eyes darted about the waiting area as though he meant to speak more at length, but thought better of it. The realization was beginning to dawn on him that there would be times that he would not be able to console her, and this particular situation marked that there would be plenty more times as these.

"I just feel," she shrugged her shoulders. "I feel partly responsible Stefan, no matter what I can't feel any differently. I should've done more."

"What could you have done better," he inquired. "You saw how confused they had been, as were we." He sighed heavily. "I can't make you see what I see, Elena. You acted out of instinct, we still don't know how this might reflect on us. What had gotten her on that road with you is still a mystery."

"That still doesn't make any difference," she replied. "Duly noted in effort though, thank you for trying."

Much to Damon's distress, Stefan brought Elena into his arms. "Is this better," he murmured against her hair.

"Very." She closed her eyes. And just as that there was a momentary standstill as she breathed in the subtle notes of sandalwood that clung to his clothing.

"I want to take you home, Elena." They withdrew from each other, their arms remaining about the other. "There's not much we can do by staying here." He kissed her. "You're exhausted."

Reluctantly she agreed with him, "Okay, but after we at least hear what's going on."

"Sure," Stefan replied.

She removed herself from him entirely, rubbing her hands again along her abdomen and jeaned legs attempting at fighting off the perpetual chill of the hospital wards. "I'll be right back," she informed.

Elena walked away from the near empty waiting area and walked along the bland colored hallways. All the while she ignored the grave stares emitted by Damon. There was no purpose for him to have been here but he felt it in himself to _hover_, being a constant reminder of what transpired between them. She had a desperate feeling that he was here to torment her, a silent persecutor who simply was _there_ and speaking to her soul of how much she antagonized his heart. She wanted Stefan, and he should never forget it. Too much had taken place for her to take that leap of faith in him ever again, he'd harmed her brother and who to tell he wouldn't kill just because she'd "hurt him" again?

The walls were closing in about her, her mind reeling from running off of about four hours of sleep the previous morning. And these _feelings_ of hers weren't making the situation any better either. Stefan had definitely been right in suggesting he take her home, she needed home. She slipped into the restroom, running the tap on cold for a few moments before splashing water on her face and using a cool palm to salve the back of her neck. Her appearance looked terrible, maybe the reason for the pitiful looks that had been coming her way all night. It were as though she had walked out of a slaughterhouse, dried blood coating the cuffs of her sleeves and for the life of her what would not wash out from beneath her fingernails. Frantically, she scrubbed violently as the tears rolled hot and unforgiving down her cheeks. Jeremy, his blood was on her hands. And who else, who hadn't been hurt so far who was near and dear because of her current alignments.

She loved Stefan, and it was wrong of her to think that way. Perhaps she was the one with bad luck? Bonnie hadn't spoken to her in weeks and everything was slipping away right before her and she was letting it. She was letting herself watch it go by and that was the worst kind of transgression.

~o~

"Are you okay?" Stefan asked. Her eyes were red, swollen from what he supposed a lengthy sob.

She nodded in confirmation.

A doctor emerged from the set of pale double-doors near the nurse station, his eyes searching bewilderedly for a moment before setting upon the peculiar group. Stefan motioned to Elena that he'd be the one to speak and walked across the room towards the doctor with an extended hand.

Damon had always been a man of opportunity, for as soon as Stefan was away from Elena he made his move, sidling up behind Elena.

"Not even a minute and you're here pilfering, behind your brother's back," she remarked.

"Not exactly the welcome I was looking for, but I'll take what I get," he retorted. "Methinks that maybe I'm not the only one who's feeling guilty about something." His forefinger touched the skin exposed at her wrist.

That smug, self-righteous bastard.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She hissed, sending him a dirty look. Oh no, he would not turn this on her.

"You know _exactly_ what I mean." He looked at her fully now, "At least everyone knows when I'm lying and at least I _don't_ deceive myself."

"Damon," she breathed, "Go. Away." She looked over at Stefan who was in deep conversation with the attending physician. There was a possibility that he was at this very second listening in on them. Yet again the same old guilt was making its home.

"I'm sorry but I can't do that," this time his demeanor had been humbled.

"You've hurt us enough," Elena continued. "When will that be enough? When? No matter what you do or try with us, you can't win. I am not your conquest."

Apparently her pleaded case tore at him because his strength wavered. His eyes went glossy and he had to look away in shame, something that wasn't novel to him but what he'd failed to acknowledge for years.

"I'm sorry," Damon said. "How many times do you need to hear it?"

"Apology noted," she glanced at Stefan then returned her gaze to his brother. "How long 'til you're blue in the face or maybe even to choke on your own humility?"

"Fair enough," he submitted.

She made to walk out of the situation but his hand held unto her sleeve, keeping her in check. He knew she wouldn't want to make a scene, but nonetheless she flinched away from his hold.

"I want to talk, Elena." Damon looked at her futilely, pleadingly. "Seriously."

"How dare you," she whispered. "Don't do this here."

The doctor tapped his chart in hand and looked over to the two of them, inclining his head in acknowledgement. Relief engulfed Elena, for she was so desperate to get out of this current situation.

Stefan sauntered forward and she tried greatly to decipher the look upon his face. If she was the reason his brow held a new furrow.

"What did he say?" She inquired.

But he failed to respond, instead his gaze was holding his brother's as though a wordless transaction unfolded right before her. "He wasn't able to say much at length, at first."

Damon retreated to the background, letting a situation that was momentarily bigger than the elephant in the room take its claim.

Stefan continued, "She's regained consciousness but we won't be able to see her. The doctor believes that she should make a full recovery after the blood transfusion."

Elena interrupted, "Transfusion?"

"Yes, she'd lost so much already. We were very lucky to get her here when we did. He's never seen anything like this before. Anyway, they're trying to contact her parents precisely, but any family they can find."

"So they know who she is?" Damon asked out of curiosity. He hadn't been totally disinterested as he appeared and solely been pushing obviously the wrong buttons to inspire any kind of reaction from Elena. Apparently he'd acted on poor decisions.

"Sula Irons. She attends Mystic Falls High. She is alert, able to speak at length."

"That's great," Elena beamed. A great burden suddenly found itself sloughing from her shoulders. "I'm happy to know. But I'ven't heard that name." She shook her head. "That doesn't matter, anyway."

"Are you ready?" Stefan asked.

"Uh," she looked over at Damon. "Sure. I'm ready to go home."

Elena walked away from the pair of brothers who remained close. Seething in a barely masked hostility, which rolled off both of them.

~o~

They walked out into the morning dark, maneuvering the almost packed parking. It looked as though things were just as busy for the hospital staff as any other point during the day.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Elena asked quietly.

Stefan simply threw a glance in her direction. She didn't know what to think. "No."

Yup, they were on the same page. He knew exactly what she was referring to and she absolutely was grateful to have dodged that bullet, if though it were only for a short time.

Damon was a few yards ahead and already nosing about in the back of Stefan's car. Elena was surprised when he emerged with his jacket in tow and distaste clinging to his hard face, "This is dry clean only." He tsked audibly. "How the hell am I going to explain rolling through a slaughter house apart from murdering some young girl?"

"How appropriate, Damon." Stefan commented. "You'll get over it. It's only animal blood."

A sardonic expression crossed his face. "Not my thing Stefan," Damon retorted. He threaded his arms through the leather sleeves. "Your thing. Not mine."

"You got that right." Stefan was as equally combative. And all Elena was capable of doing was to look from one to the other. It dawned on her that they were not merely arguing about a blood-vomited jacket but about something more underlying and significant, like her. She hated this.

"Come on," she pushed at Stefan's back. "Let's go."

As ever Damon remained undaunted. "Bye ladies, I'm walking. I'm going to catch something to eat." He'd always have the last word. He turned on his heel, failing to glance back, and strutted on his way.

Silently they eased into the car. Afraid to say the wrong thing, she looked on as Stefan hammered his fists one after the other upon the steering wheel.

Elena swallowed hard. Of course, she wasn't scared for her wellbeing it was just Damon shouldn't even be a factor in any of this.

And she let Stefan know that. She waited for him to cool off before inching closer, ignoring the crackling seat to kiss his face, his eyes, cheeks, lips. "I love you," she breathed.

He didn't respond, but coolly he eyed her.

"I love you," she repeated more forcefully.

He kissed her. Deeply. And fulfilling and magical, what they'd both been craving this entire time.

"I can't stand it when you're angry with me Stefan."

"It's him, Elena." He insisted. "And I'm not angry with you."

"How could you not? I've been so secretive. God knows what you might think."

"Elena. I'm not angry with you," he persisted.

"And you have nothing to worry about."

"Do I?" He asked. She was a little insulted to have him even ask. Was she not mature enough to know what she wanted? "Do you need to ask me this?" She was very hurt.

His eyes searched hers, appearing as though he were genuinely remorseful. "I'm sorry. But I want you to know, they will always be a part of this. Katherine _or_ Damon might not go away."

Elena withdrew from him, unable to believe what she was hearing from him. "You sound like you're trying to talk me out of something, Stefan. You're this easily submissive?"

"I did not say that," the fight was back in him for he had every intention of holding unto his woman.

"It's not what you say, it's how you say it." A small part of her liked this. They were arguing. She was not a glutton for punishment or the like but she wanted to prove to someone or more so something within her that they were not a couple to tread tepid waters. Stefan and her were good for each other. They could make love _and_ challenge one another. It was just finding an appropriate balance between the two.

"You know what, let's not do this tonight." She settled. "Stalemate? Yes, let's call a stalemate." She kissed him. "And maybe I'll let you win me over a little later, _if_ you're good."

Stefan definitely liked how that sounded. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

"My place or yours?" He asked.

Elena was busy at scrubbing at the cuffs. No matter how much Resolve, she doubted this would wash out. "Uh? Oh, mine. But you'll have to meet me in my room. For all I know my aunt is staking out waiting to catch me red-handed or with some inventive paraphernalia."

He chuckled sweetly. "Its animal blood, you shouldn't worry."

"You think that's funny she would- what? Animal blood?" She brought the fabric to her nose only catching notes of metallic whiffs.

"I'm not sure _you_ could actually catch the difference but trust me. It is."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better," she jibed. "Albeit weird, peculiar and probably reassuring that I had _not_ harbored a cannibalistic fugitive, blood is blood. And this cannot be saved."

"Was it your favorite?" He asked, momentarily taking his eyes form the road.

"Sure was."

His hand squeezed her knee gently and the most heart-breaking, sweet expression clouded his face. "I'll get you another one like it."

How could he? It had been a gift from her mother. But there was no need for him to know this, or for the ensuing guilt trip that would put him on.

* * *

A/N: So I am fond of songs that are simply inspirational. The title of the chapter is taken from a line from a song by a fantastic band. "Why We Cry at Movies" by As Tall As Lions. If you haven't heard of them they are great. Check them out.

Now when I'm now spewing music propoganda I actually talk about fics lol:

When it comes to certain vampire literature as well as being totally bias with certain pairings. I'm more of a Sookie/Bill chick and an Elena/Stefan gal. Now that speaks volumes. Bill, southern gentleman reformed hedonist. Stefan, sweetheart with a dark side. Now I won't go painting their nails or such but I'm such a sucker for the bad guys on the other hand. Eric. Damon. Yea, there is the dilemma.

Now y'all, those of you reading do not be afraid to poke at that little 'Review' thingy. (I go off on tangents and bless your heart if you read this. But is it just me that after a full dose of watching True Blood or anything with a smidgen of a southern twang you find yourslef thinking southern, talking southern. And I'm very not southern, I lived in the south- Virginia! yay for quite some time but they're as southern as Seattle- see waht I'm saying about tangents damn. But does this afflict anyone else? Lol)

I'm also definitely game for discussing the dilemma of such preferences of I Can't Pick, So I'll Take Both. Now as with the plot I've got a concise view of where I want this to go (haven't done that in a while). Elena is a very strong character and I love that strength that she has. And although she is ceratin, there is always that lingering maybe. I love that.

Now feel free to give your input of a certain pairing you may like, right now its game. Because I can't even trust myself with Damon when I'm writing. All of a sudden he goes from this effer that you hate- and I'm trying to write him as despicle as I can and there he goes all handsome and smoldering. Dang. I cannot trust myself with him. LOL.


	4. You'll Be Given Love

**IV.**

**You'll Be Given Love**

She waited until the last of the nurses made their final rounds. For hours she'd waited tamely as they poked and prodded. They'd given her blood, but to her it was extraneous seeing that they filled three large vials from the fluid coursing her veins. The pain that had started off as subtle worked its way from the abyss of her stomach and paved its way to the entirety of her body. Even her poor hair follicles shrieked in pain. They'd given her blood, but it wasn't _good_ blood not that it was bad either.

Sula ripped the IV and blood needles from her arms, ignoring the searing pain that came forth as the needles receded from the back of her hand and the meaty part of her forearm. The fluid within the IV bag had been the worse, she'd been fearful that she'd continuously pass out the first eight minutes in. The clear liquid had ignited as it made its steady way through her system.

She was sure then there was a God. For surely she was repaying for every vice she'd partaken of during her lifetime.

Her feet touched unto a gratefully cold linoleum floor, the inflammation in her knee joints at once shaking her to the core. It was almost over, she was almost home. Albeit the first step towards freedom, but she was much closer now that she was no longer laying there doped up on some hospital bed. She wasn't even certain where she was exactly.

Her shaggy head poked out her hospital room, and she was grateful for that too for with spectacular insurance came a fantastic room sans roommate. A smile crinkled her dry lips. The night nurse was not at the post and she thought if such fortune followed her she'd be home free. But then again this proved unlikely knowing her track record.

Sula hit the hallway like a bat out of hell, everything and nothing demanding her attention all at once. The heavy pillows were still floating in her head, making it more and more difficult to think, to breathe but her thin legs carried her on. And the more her course unfolded the more she realized that there really was not a well devised plan. There never was, she was more of a half-cocked guns girl but was she not in reform? That she was, she noted remembering the sole reason of ending up in this bum-damnable, contemptible-sticks town.

The mellow voice of a female nurse came drifting from around the corner, she continued on in the reverberating hallway on the phone conversing of some scandal which involved a man and his multiple if not kinky array of sexual partners. From what Sula gathered, this woman was claiming to be one of them. She watched from her perch, her breath caught in the back of her throat at the thought of being caught, as the woman retook her seat at the station. Certainly, she was not fearful of being caught but if she had to spend one more second in this hell hole she'd shove that wretched IV back into her arms her-damned-self.

Fearlessly, now that the woman had been seated, she emerged causing a justifiable yelp from the other woman. "Sit. Down." Sula looked at the woman hard, commandeering.

A soft squeal died upon her tongue, for the nurse realized that she was really interested in what this young woman- that was charted to be in room B52, Irons, Sula she recalled from the chart- had to say.

"When I leave. Fill out my discharge papers," she dictated effortlessly. Her deep brown irises dilating slightly, causing the set of gray eyes to follow in fashion.

"Oh," Sula exclaimed as though in the throes of light conversation had just now recalled something she foolishly shouldn't have forgotten in the first place. "You checked on me during the night, _twice_. We even had a peculiarly nice conversation about my abrasive aversion of anything Barney. You brought me water, then I went to bed. Irrationally, you mix up my charts with the woman next to me. That woman for as long as possible is Sula Irons. Submit my discharge papers, after _noon_ time tomorrow."

The woman's jaw went slack, spittle sliding from the corner of her mouth and unto her neatly pressed uniform.

Sula reached over the station desk, retrieving the phone receiver. From memory she dialed the number to a yellow cab service company.

"Grace," she thumbed the nurse's name tag. "That's a beautiful name, wear it proudly." Sula offhandedly commented during her short wait. "Ten to fifteen minutes? Thank you."

She set the receiver back on its stand, feeling disgustingly accomplished. The smile across her lips died as another churn twisted her insides. She then made as though to walk away, "Oh. And don't forget Grace. Discharge papers. Noon."

"I won't. Noon." Grace confirmed sweetly. Sula was well aware she couldn't keep the channel open any longer. At the most the side effects would be minor, a forgotten birthday or perhaps a name. But she wouldn't take that chance.

"Thank you," she returned, smiling herself.

~o~

Getting to the ground level had been effortless. She'd foregone the elevators, settling for the stairwell. That way she could limit the amount of security she might encounter or however many cameras she'd need to distort. It weighed upon her heavily to play with another's memories. Things that were precious and menial such as that were collateral damage but somewhere within her it grieved her. In retrospect she was functioning on a larger, grander scale and here she was needlessly delving and thieving another's life. Travesty, even more so when she had to replace those memories which was a transgression that was unforgivable.

She waited diligently upon the curbside beneath the crown of the South Wing of the hospital. There was no watch upon her wrist but she knew it had to be at least more than twenty minutes and the only respite she could find from the cold was tugging the stolen doctor's coat together and shifting from one bare leg to the other.

She wouldn't tip him. Or her. But the gender was irrelevant, either way they would not be tipped. At the second of her declaration- she rejoiced for the golden macaroni-cheese yellow came ambling towards her. The vehicle hadn't even come to a fulll stop but she'd swung open the rear door and hopped inside to gratefully relish the warmth flushing her skin.

"Sorry, there was traffic." The male cabbie called over his shoulder through the Plexiglas. His eyes were set upon her and her brown skin.

Sure there was, in this part of town, at this hour? Baloney.

"Not to worry," she lied smoothly. "I was not in a worry."

Inconspicuously, he looked at her through the rear mirror, assessing the current state of disaster of her hair, her rumpled hospital dress, and obviously stolen coat.

"Rough night?" He inquired.

"Just discharged." Her tone was final, indicating she had no interest in partaking of small talk any further.

Neither of the two spoke as he pulled out the lot.

They were well on their way a few minutes before he grunted. "Lucky day," he chortled as he leaned towards the meter, "forgot to turn on the meter."

"Isn't that convenient. Seems we're both having a _rough night_ of the sort," she teased lightly.

The man chortled again, his face now ruddy from the wind or perhaps the frequent glances at the fare in his backseat. He removed his hat to scratch his balding head, then ceremoniously returned it.

"The gas station is just up here," she moved closer to the partitioned seats. She breathed him in, inhaling the alcohol leaving his flesh and the sin coming off it as well. He was a good man from what she smelled. A smile touched her lips.

"I know where it is," he said now a little unnerved at realizing how close the proximity they shared.

"Okay," she mouthed looking up at the rear view, knowing full well his eyes were fixed upon her.

The cabbie made a right into the Shell gas station. Sula could make out her blue '64 Volkswagen parked where she had left it a few nights back. Thanks to the clerk on duty, it was _still_ there. They came to a stop, the cabbie putting the vehicle into park then turning to look at her expectantly.

"I don't have cash on me but look, my car's right over there." She pointed to the lone car across the lot. "I've got my purse in there, you can even follow me if you like. No funny business."

That smile again. He'd never in his life see someone smile that much, and it wasn't even that which unnerved him it was the particularly, precise way as though she forced how she carried on. She was all light and with a syrupy exterior but he couldn't place it but it felt like he was being watched, assessed, judged. As though here were his final moments to make a man out of himself.

"Better no funny business." He grunted as he eased out of his seat, the plastic covers screeching in distress as his weight fought against it, shaking the entire car. He chose to wait by his cab, sticking a toothpick between his lips, and leaning against its structure. "I trust you," he laughed as she got out from the other end.

Silently the cabbie watched her after she glanced back at him, smiling. Her thin little legs and bare feet carrying her forward, the coat swishing about her in the early morning wind and the flimsy hospital gown beneath that hopefully with the correct juxtaposition and wind gust should reveal more than it already did. He smiled.

Sula managed to hobble the distance to her car. And the thought did briefly cross her mind to hop on in and zoom away, but that was only momentarily. She was tired, groggy and certainly not a morning person.

Her car door was locked. _Shit_. And where was the key? Nestled in the visor. Great. She thought for a second, then looked about mindfully not to expose what needed not be seen. Gently she tapped the glass, inciting the psychokinetic force lying dormant within her to cause the lock to pop up.

_Thank you_, she called out quietly to the sky. As she leaned in, she could see the cabbie across the way agitated in his skin perhaps contemplating whether or not he'd let her get the best of him. With keys in hand, she retreated, moving to the back seat to pull out her purse.

He swore the little woman was mad, as mad as the wild, dark hair resting at the top of her head. She strolled forward, surely at her own leisure with a smile on her face. He still had the meter running.

Sula flashed her credit card at the cabbie as she walked past him and into the store. "Hey Billy Boy," she called to the grave yard shift clerk.

"Hey Sula," he called back. "I don't even want to know what you got into this time."

"Then don't ask," she retorted coyly.

She retrieved eighty dollars from the ATM, then picked up a pack of gum, water, cigarettes, and wiped out the stash of KitKat bars.

With the small purchase she walked out the store and stood face to chest with her cabbie. "Here," she offered.

His hand encircled her smaller one. But he was the one to cling unto him, she looked into his eyes momentously, as though he knew for certain what she was looking for in his head.

She let go.

"This is a fifty," he exclaimed.

"That it is. Part for the meter and the rest, tip." She looked up into his eyes playfully. "You deserve it Frank."

He hadn't recalled telling her is name but perhaps somewhere along the discomforting silence they'd made the exchange. He was far too spooked to ask for her name, again.

"And here," she extended the pack of cigarettes.

He looked from her hand down at his plaid shirt and the empty Newport cigarette box sticking out the flap's pocket. "Thanks, again."

"Welcome."

And with that the cabbie was on his way. She sighed, defeated. She was so exhausted she feared she couldn't make the short drive home. The interior of her Blue-mobile was stuffy she noted, she cracked the window open loving the retro sound as she cranked the lever and the glass squeaked against all the action. She turned the ignition and began to pull out when she noticed that the right tail end of the car looked suspiciously low. Carefully the Blue-mobile crawled across the lot to park before the Shell store.

Under quick inspection she realized the tire had not only been flat it, it had been literally shredded. "Billy Boy," she hissed.

"Billy," she yelled. A few heads in the store turned. "What the fuck, Billy? I really wouldn't have noticed?"

She held up a finger to silence him. She didn't even have to do much other than that, he was even placid on his easy days. "Not a word," she said. "I'm too pissed to even consider the bullshit you are about to tell me."

Billy Boy shook his head in compliance.

"Do you have a jack?" She demanded.

"No," he squeaked.

She sighed. "Great. Thanks, Billy. And you are very lucky that I like you. That you are cute and funny. And that I really like you." She turned on her heel and exited, the bell chiming gleefully upon her exit.

Eating a bag of gummies, troubling a stick of chewing gum, and downing a bottle of water she waited outside the Shell gas station resting atop the nose of the Blue-mobile. Unfortunately, a slew of customers passing through did not own a jack, which was jack.

A truck pulled up next to hers she vaguely registered. Then the ding of the bell as the person entered. Then she went back to her gummies watching the twilight receding for a what would certainly be a beauteous sunrise, from what of it she would see through the thick foliage of the trees before her that is.

"How was the break out?" Asked a voice.

"Eh," she replied sourly, biting off the head of a helpless red gummy. She hated the red ones.

A thick chest blocked her view, flowed by a wave of fingers, and dimpled cheeks. "Hey."

"Oh, hey. Were you talking to me?"

She took in the man before her, tanned skin and a well worked body clothed in a crudely sleeveless shirt and cargos.

His hand uncertainly passed through his short, but slightly curled black hair. "I asked, 'how was the break out'?" His face crinkled into a dimpled smile as he outlandishly curved his body in a comical gesture to read the name on her coat. "Dr. Jonas," his hands retreated back into his pockets.

Sula certainly was not in a good mood and shrugged her shoulders. "Obviously, they didn't catch me." But he proved yet to be persistent and that dimpled smile of his infectious.

"Aw, there we go. I definitely knew there was a smile in there."

"And you worked for it," she agreed offering the dear bag of gummies he was so eyeing.

He reached in, and brought one of those wretched red gummies to his lips. "Thanks."

"Well as strange as it may seem I'm not Dr. Jonas," she pointed to the coat and the hospital gown.

"Good to know, because I really was about to start asking all kind of medical questions," he joked.

She laughed softly.

"And a beautiful laugh, to match the beautiful girl." He was definitely trying to warm up to her she noted as his body naturally fell into her.

"Wait there's more," she laughed on. "And I don't usually sit on my car eating gummies in the wee hours of the morning talking to strange men."

"Ooh, fair." He extended his hand, "Mason. Mason Lockwood."

"Sula," she replied. Letting his hand envelope hers. She even quite liked the feel of his skin against hers, her darker skin against his. And with that it was sure, the low hum that radiated from his skin, brain, heart and solar plexus chakra. And the warmth of that flesh.

"What? Sula NoLastName."

"Yes," she agreed. "And you'll have to work for that too."

"I'm just teasing. Billy asked me to check on you." He moved in closer, whispering conspiratorially. "I think you might have him..shck.. jostled. I've never seen someone go that red and pale at the same time."

"And rightfully. Did you see how he shredded my tire doing gosh knows whatever someone called Billy Boy does." She teased back.

Mason's hands grazed his cargo shorts. "Let me take a look."

She hopped off the front of the car, popped the trunk as he took looked at the back tire.

"I've got a jack in my truck. I should have you back on the road in a few."

She liked his certainty. She missed that in the men she'd been around in the past, Sula mused. And he worked with that certainty with a ripple of muscled arms, to the sweat glistening upon his brow. She even forgave him when he made fun of her donut tire to inches of its life.

"Well it's saved me a whole lot of times." Sula couldn't help but laugh as well.

After Mason had finished up and emerged from his work slightly dirt smudged she couldn't help but smile in return at his smile. Finally, someone who smiled as often as she, perhaps for different reasons altogether but smiling nonetheless. He was very charming, she decided.

"Now you have got to tell me how it rides." His hands shuffled over, entwining his fingers with hers as he held it up. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a sharpie. "This is my number," he scrawled extravagantly upon her forearm. "Call me. Tell me how it goes."

Sula was pleased by his gesture. Usually she was not amiable long enough for a man of a certain caliber to stick around for long. "Sure thing." She stepped away from his tall stature and slipped into the Blue-mobile.

He walked around the front, trailing her footsteps. His hand tapped the top of the car loudly, "Take care. Oh, and I think I'll have to thank that Billy Boy."

Sula smiled from ear to ear as she pulled out the parking spot, looking hotly at Mason's dimpled face. He waved her off.

He remained in her rearview for a few moments until the foliage and the endless road took its possession. Within ten minutes she'd be home and hey it was already making out to be fine day already. She could afford a single day or _two_ to herself until she focused on more _imperative_ matters at hand. She could call him tomorrow. Now would surely be too soon.

Sula settled for calling him later.

* * *

A/N: Bjork obvioiusly.

Now I felt this was a very appropriate way of introducing Sula. She's a woman with a whole lot of back story to her and mischief (can't go without that can we). VD can't possibly function without the other main characters in full usage so I'll be bouncing from Elena to Sula's POV a few times. Until Sula's POV is fully stable enough on its own. I think it's a fun way of tying all the characters together.


	5. Don't Ever Ask Me Where I'm From

**Chapter V**

**Don't Ever Ask Me Where I'm From… In Six States That's Considered Dumb**

There was a whole lot of consideration going into the day and skipping the first three block periods of classes was a highly favorable option. With a breath for strength and dignity, straightening her back Sula clutched her class schedule to her breast and walked into her Anatomy and Physiology class. At once the strong, bitter odor of formaldehyde assaulted her nasal passages and desiccated the back of her throat. Three stationary fans positioned at certain points near the slit windows were on medium blast, trying desperately to alleviate the heat of the classroom.

"And who are you," inquired the Anatomy teacher who'd at once upon a time been a professor at a local community college. Before she could utter a word in return he snatched the paper she'd held in her hands, eyeing it with a scowl upon his jowls, an expression that evidently stayed with the man who wore horn-rimmed glasses.

"What's this for, what are you doing in my class?" He demanded, not even bothering to look at the paper in his hands at length.

"As you can see," she moved closer to him whilst remaining at an appropriate distance to use her index finger to point to the first period class. "I've just transferred in. My grades are perfectly sufficient. Mrs. Henderson assured me that you both were on a similar syllabus. " Sula felt the need to plead her case for at the moment a few students on the first couple of rows were becoming interested.

He held a chalky hand to her face to quiet her. At this day and age the man was sticking to his guns, obstinately resisting the coup of the whiteboard. Yes, he was definitely a blackboard and chalk kind of man. "Whatever," he literally flicked his wrist, shooing her away. "Take a seat." The man had suddenly become weary, almost too disenchanted with high school lifestyle.

Sula turned and instantaneously the wind was knocked from her. In the second to last row was Elena Gilbert.

She'd recalled perfectly, the other night, the hospital stint and not to forget the almost comical getaway. Mystic Falls was a considerably large school with an adequate student body and never did it worry her that she might cross paths with this girl. Never. She was always disinterested when it came to close calls, but it now dawned on Sula that this girl perhaps had seen enough for her to question or inquire further. The night a little over a week and a half prior raced through her mind, and meticulously she combed through the sequences. Had she uttered anything _off_ during her half-insane, hysteria?

No, she definitely would have recalled that. She scuttled forward, maneuvering pass the lengthy, black desks using the thin sheet of paper to shield her face. She hadn't been seen, she hoped. The teacher, _Doctor_ James was on her tails announcing they were having a lab this very day. Great.

"We will be conducting several labs for the year. Some of you may have already been through one of my classes so you know the routine. And for those of you who do not," he stopped by Sula's desk significantly. "Just best believe that will quickly change."

"I do not, I repeat do not accept late work. It will go down in my grade ledger as _zero_." He returned to his desk to perch on the edge, his khaki pants undersized enough to boast his fishing paraphernalia gentlemen's socks. "But it might come as a shock that I am not absolutely inhuman. There will be three chances each semester for extra-credit, which is generous if I might say. I am willing to cooperate with you in order for any and all of you to perform at your best. I have my reputation to protect. Now, every one of you I expect nothing but top quality run of the mill- you wouldn't be in my AP class if this weren't, so that being said I will refer to you ladies and gentlemen as young doctors."

Doctor James retreated behind his desk to procure the stacked lab packets. "Now everyone break into groups- three a piece. Those of you left over you know what to do, find a group, do the work. Doctor Talvarez, please pass these out."

A tall brunette got to her feet, received the stacks then begun to issue them out to each student.

There was a quiet dilemma rummaging through her mind. Sula hated whenever it came up she were in some kind of a disadvantage. The lanky boy close to her initiated the talks of gaining a lab partner, all the while her line of vision never leaving the position of the girl across the room.

Her lab partner, Jered, he sadly didn't last. The cat cadavers were wheeled out and cursed with a sickly digestion he felt the bile ascending his throat at the realization the formaldehyde-laden carcass reminded him of his childhood mate, Sparkles.

He quickly excused himself, cupping his mouth as spittle and fluid trickled out his mouth and down his hands as he saved himself and the rest of the class from a pool of vomit atop any nearby table and on the floor. So yes, knowing her fantastic fortune she had somehow been singled out by the Doctor and thrown into Elena's group. Surely, the day was going fine and dandy.

Sula juvenilely scraped up her packet and walked over to the far table. There was a brief moment of recognition, she hadn't missed it. Elena's fine brown eyes widened but the best of her caught up, quieting her instantly. Of course that didn't deter her from repetitively glancing at her new classmate and the unmistakably incitement of curiosity. Sula responded by demurely laying out her cat buddy unto the black top table, and proceeding to engrossingly dissect the poor thing. All in the name of science, for the life of her she still could not come to the understanding of how cutting up an animal sufficed in bringing any insight to the human anatomy. There was nothing in fact comparable to actually surveying the human body.

~o~

The bell signaling the end of first period blared into life. Luckily, she had worked to tidy her work space in means to plot an early escape.

Sula felt the tug of determination as she could envision the brunette walking briskly after her, fighting the steady influx of students into the hallway.

"Hey," Elena called. She forcefully gripped Sula's elbow compelling the other girl to face her. "Sula? Sula Irons." The recognition was definite.

"And what if?" She retorted hotly.

"I went to see you at the hospital the next day," Elena stated. "You weren't there."

"I have to go to class," Sula said. She didn't wait for Elena to respond, simply she stepped away and traversed the now near emptied hall.

~o~

She saw her from across from where she sat a while away in the cool shade. She watched as the two, the boy she recalled from the other day, now engrossed in a deep conversation. As expected from reading their lips of what she was unable to audibly catch, she was a topic of discussion as well as a Damon. They leaned into the other as they spoke, the intimacy blatant in the way their skin grazed the other, the seclusion they invoked and asked of the world. Another of her many talents, she was exceptionally trained in marking connections, this would be one she should worry of, the male was very territorial. Not in the unashamed way he possessed her, but quite the opposite; he was distant, off in the milieu stimulating her autonomy. That was what worried her, for she could tell that was a force to be reckoned with, he was a strange male which inspired a few conspiracies in her head.

A dark-skinned girl walked up to the pair and spoke with them at length. This small talk disinterested Sula but there was something else. There was something else to this black eyed girl.

This town was not that tedious as she'd once believed.

After the other girl walked away, Elena broke away from her partner and sauntered towards the table that had the best usage shade, much to her boyfriend's dismay Sula could see.

Silently Elena took a seat with tray in hand. She unwrapped a deli sandwich then placed out an apple and a bottle of mineral water.

Sula remained silent, using her fork to work through her untouched salad. She was quite hungry but she found herself unable to instigate an appetite.

"So I guess I'll be the first to talk then." Elena leaned forward, her slender hands breaking her sandwich in two.

"Go ahead. I won't protest," Sula replied.

Elena's brow furrowed, frustrated. "I was very worried about you."

"You've said that," she said dryly.

"How can you be so noncommittal about something like this?" Elena bit into her halved-sandwich. "I remember perfectly how you were, terrified. I didn't even know what to say on the police statement. Unless there _is_ something you have to hide."

Sula's fidgeting with her salad instantly ceased. Her head snapped up to look squarely at the girl, sizing her up and inwardly chastising herself for her apparent translucency. "I was there as well, I recall too. You did something that was very commendable," she said disinterestedly. "You act as though I'm supposed to thank you."

Elena's soft features scoffed. "Look- Sula. I didn't come here to have you pat me on the back. So I won't even validate that statement."

"Thank you," Sula cooled. "I didn't mean to offend you, I guess I deserved that."

She waved away the apology, "It's okay. So how are you?"

There was suspicion fleeting through her at the genuineness of Elena's concern. But that was simply her sheer apprehension, she could not trust people therefore she was abrasive. A smile lit her plump red lips as Elena offered the other half of her sandwich. "Thank you."

Elena was still waiting for a response.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Sula inclined her chin towards the lone figure sitting across from them, asking the obvious.

"Oh," Elena turned and looked behind her with a small wave. "Yes, he is."

"Okay." Sula took a bite, relishing the thinly sheared deli meat. "I'm doing better. They couldn't understand what was wrong with me. They're still doing outpatient procedures as we speak." There was no need for her worry about her small untruth for she hadn't been back to that damned place since she'd made her escape, but who was there to challenge her.

"I can imagine how difficult that has to be," Elena agreed.

"It's tolerable. I sleepwalk a lot," she found herself revealing. "More like blackouts if you ask, but nonetheless it is more often than usual."

"Is it serious?"

"I'll disappear a day at the most," she continued. "The medication I take usually helps but I've found myself carelessly neglectful." Sula quieted herself and they remained in silence for some time.

Noticing the obvious discomfort on the subject Elena decided to bring the conversation to another direction. "How long have you been in Mystic Falls? I mean I don't recognize you from around here."

"You figured me out," she laughed. "I'm from out of town. I was here for maybe a few weeks of the final semester of last year, decided to stick around."

"Do you have a lot of family in the area?"

Sula's mouth went dry. "My parents are both dead. And I don't have anyone else."

"Oh my God, I'm sorry," a cloud filled Elena's eyes. "I can understand the feeling."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I was very young. Children learn to cope," Sula sighed heavily. "How long have you known him?"

"Who, Stefan?" She glanced over her shoulder her. "Oh, a little over a year."

"Is he from here?"

A perplexed look furrowed her brow. "When he was a kid he grew up here. His family returned last year." That wasn't a lie but there was no need for elaboration. Elena gazed at Stefan for a moment, knowing that he was at this second listening in; he threw her a look of caution.

Sula changed tact, for the girl was becoming uneasy by the thrum of her slightly elevated blood pressure. She wasn't a very convincing liar, albeit her skills did put her at an advantage. And she felt she was being lied to, a fog enveloped her preventing Sula from searching deeper. "Who was the other man with you?"

"His brother," she cleared her throat. "Damon."

"Damon," Sula repeated. She could remember him. "Anyway, thank you for lunch," she motioned to the now empty wrap. "I appreciate your consideration but I don't owe you or your boyfriend." She got to her feet, "Nor do you owe me."

Sula began to walk away but Elena rushed to her feet, blocking her immediate exit. "Hey, you don't need to be a stranger. Anytime you ever want to join us for lunch… no strings attached."

It warmed her heart more than it should have, she was friendless in this world for so long and here she was her reserve melting at an instant of graciousness. "We could do that."

* * *

Chapter title song: "Hardcore Days & Softcore Nights" by Aqueduct


End file.
